A Collection of Mysteries
by Mint Chips
Summary: The beginning starts innocently enough, but the rating is there for the intention of more mature content: A fading aristocrat lady is moved to tell her great-great grandsons (who look like Vegeta and Goku) the story of her past adventures.
1. The Beginning of a Mystery

Soteira smiled, the wrinkles past the corner of her eyes forming warm and appealing half-stars. She moved forward a little in her chair, eager to listen to the squabble happening on her front lawn. Two boys, both black-haired cousins, were fighting it out. Although their technique showed advanced training, their execution was obviously boyish. Their great-great grandmother laughed heartily. The sight echoed many fond memories, though one particular made the blonde pause. She smiled again, though it was more inward and twisted. Yes, that was a good prank, that rivalry with the poofy blonde. What was her name, Megan, Morgan? Oh, wait…

Unconsciously, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Except for a few aging hairs, it was as blonde as ever. It had remained her source of pride as the years silently seeped into her body: the slight age spots cropping up in her hands; the ungainly veins in her ankles; and some things determinedly "going south". She was clever, though, she knew how to hide certain things under makeup, creams, and clothes. Often times, in her public teas and parties, Soteira gave the impression of opposites. No one dared call her "an old woman". Rather, her maturity complemented her (sometimes) vicious wit and swift charm. Her fame – though more temporary than others – granted her an authority.

And it was this that moved the two young boys to stop. Her voice rang sharply, firmly. They looked up expectedly, their fists frozen in mid-punch. They unconsciously took in the commanding figure in her demure grey dress and its train, her still-vain stride, the glitter of her green eyes – and stored the images away for remembrance.

"Come," Soteira called, picking up the sides of her plain dress, "Come here and sit down."

The two boys quickly obeyed, albeit pushing each other in a silent fight for the porch steps. The shorter, more aggressive one took the only stool. He set his behind firmly on it, his attitude as stuck-up as his hair. The other was of a gentler sort, preferring to sit beside his grandmother in childish wonderment. She chuckled inwardly, and uncharacteristically stroked his head.

"I want to tell a story," she said clearly.

The boy on the stool sneered.

"Is that all?"

She grinned fiercely.

_"Boy,"_ was all she said to silence him. He pouted.

The other tugged at her skirt.

"Is it about my great-great-great-great-great-great…grandfather?" he asked in a half-whisper.

She smiled indulgently at him.

"Not so great, but the story does include him."

"Get to it already!" dared the voice on the stool.

Soteira bent her head. Why was she telling this story? It gave her a sense of wicked pleasure to have beaten her rival so badly, to observe that memory of her face on her wedding day…But insult struck Soteira deeply. An occasional jab was tolerated by the relatives, but anything beyond that was considered for the cold-shoulder punishment. This, however, wasn't about that. Soteira's eyes looked up at her great-great grandchildren. The snob-boy sat perfectly still, his arms crossed and his expression exuding annoyance. His wide-eyed counterpart scratched himself, but he remained quite attentive. They seemed so outside of history in this quiet future, would they ever need to take upon themselves the duties their forefathers had? Soteira settled on a different motive for her telling, and she began quite plainly:

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who fell out of the sky…"


	2. Crime Scene Investigation

Once upon a time, a girl fell out of the sky. No one knew who she was or where she came from; but no one wondered about that when bystanders rushed to the view the strange scene that law before them. The girl had landed on top of a green being who resembled the Herculean version of the classic, comic, and camp "green men from outer space". But all the grandeur he might have conveyed was gone, in a crumpled heap on the Parisian pavement. His body was twisted in an odd way, but the perceptive eyes glittered with lively rage after the initial cloudy shock.

"What hit me!" he cried out, surprising the gathering crowd.

"Does that matter!" squeaked a blue-haired companion of his, "Your back's broken!"

"Was that a falling gargoyle?"

The speaker looked questioningly at the sky. His hair was the only real wild thing about him; muscles, martial arts style, everything physically connected to him did not fit his personality as natural caretaker. Unfailingly curious, he knelt down and examined his friend's back.

"It doesn't seem to be bad," he said simply.

The blue-haired individual did not share his sentiments. She expressed this through what sounded like gibberish to the male ears.

"Bulma, calm down!" urged another character.

"Yes, tell her, Chi Chi," absentmindedly said the one kneeling down, "Take her to that café up the boulevard, get her something to drink. She's hysterical."

The woman called Chi Chi led her friend Bulma away whilst the situation grew ever more excitable by the tourists. They whispered meanly about the girl they knew nothing about – the prevailing theory was that she tried to kill herself by throwing her body off the top of the cathedral. Her short, solid blonde hair covered her bloodless face – perhaps if they had known how attractive she was, they might have walked away thinking it was just another celebrity stunt.

"Gohan, will you help get these people away?"

A young boy waved his arms, and a couple of other men (undoubtedly also part of this little foreign group) assisted him. Their forceful appearance rapidly ushered the people out, but the incident was much talked in the coffeehouses, gift shop counters, and all places of tourist character for the rest of the day.


End file.
